A Family Reunited (9 page)

Chapter 14

O
nce inside the building, Pamela pulled off her gloves and untied her scarf. The temperature had dropped. Snow flurries fell, dotting the ground. Though not a usual fan of the cold, she didn’t mind the weather in December. The cooler air made her
feel
as if Christmas was coming in a little over a week. Made her want to listen to Bing Cosby singing “White Christmas” or watch Jimmy Stewart as he listened to his daughter share when angels get their wings.

Warmth flooded her as she remembered Christmas shopping with Jack. They’d had a terrific time buying for the girls. His eyes had lit with delight with each present she suggested, even the doll clothes. She had no doubt he regretted the time he’d missed with them. And he had changed. Just as he said.

Unbuttoning her coat, she recalled the kiss they’d shared on the couch after the excursion. She’d yearned for the union she’d once known. She’d had the strength to deny the urges, but her mind replayed the kisses throughout the night and the next day. And the day after that.

Walking into Dr. Mays’s classroom, her cheeks burned when she remembered kissing Jack again the night of the Christmas program. What had she been thinking? Leading him on was wrong, and she wasn’t ready to get back together with him. Fear of giving herself to him again only to be left a second time made her sick to her stomach. Part of her wanted to trust, to just let go and give it a shot. The other part of her wanted to protect herself.

“Can you believe we’re here?”

Pamela blinked away her thoughts and focused on the short-haired girl who’d just said something to her.

“None of my other classes met today. The tests were all online, and my papers were emailed.”

Pamela smiled at her. They’d never spoken. She considered introducing herself, then decided there would be little point since it was the last class of the semester. “Dr. Mays is definitely old-school.”

The girl huffed. “Try ancient-school. I haven’t had to actually print a paper to turn in to the teacher since middle school.”

Pamela laughed. “At least this should be quick. All he has to do is hand back our last assignment.”

She growled. “I know. If I don’t get a B on this paper, I’ll have to take the class again.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can listen to him for another semester.”

“I have to get a B in order to keep my scholarship.”

Dr. Mays walked in and shut the door. Pamela sat up in the seat. The girl leaned over. “Good luck.”

Pamela nodded. “You, too.”

Dr. Mays opened his briefcase and pulled out their papers. He talked about enjoying the class and hoping they’d learned many financial management skills. Pamela tried to focus on his words, but her eyes and mind stayed focused on the stack sitting on the corner of his desk. If she got a B on this paper, she’d get a C in the class. Because she had As in her other classes, she could make the C and keep a 3.5 grade point average.

She rubbed her hands together. He needed to pass out the papers already. Surely he knew they were all about to explode from anxiety.

He picked up the stack. Pamela bit her bottom lip and offered a silent plea to God for a good grade.

“You’re free to go when I give you your paper,” said Dr. Mays. “Enjoy your winter break.”

He paused. “Oh, yes, and for your convenience, I wrote your grade in the class on the top left corner.” He chuckled, a sound that reminded her of a fake laugh. “No need to wait until final grades are posted on the web.”

Pamela’s heartbeat raced as he passed the papers to her peers. She closed her eyes when he laid the paper on her desk. Sucking in a breath, she opened them and smiled. She got an A. Glancing at the top left corner, her heart plummeted into her gut when she read D.

She furrowed her brows as she pulled the syllabus out of her folder. Checking each grade and calculating the average, the D didn’t make sense. She should have a C in the class with no problem now that she’d gotten an A on the final paper.

The girl beside her pumped her fist in the air. “I did it.” She held up her paper, showing a C on the assignment and a D in the class. “How ’bout you?”

Pamela shifted in her seat. “I’m going to have to talk with him. I got an A on the paper, but he’s showing I have a D in the class. Doesn’t make sense.”

The girl stood. “Well, good luck again to you, and have a good break.”

Pamela nodded. She’d kept each assignment and test for the class. Pulling them out of her folder, she recalculated the scores.
I should have a C.

Her heartbeat raced, and her hands grew clammy as she waited for Dr. Mays to finish passing out papers. When the last person finally left, he walked back to his desk. She gathered her syllabus and papers and stood beside him. “Dr. Mays, I have a question about my grade.”

He didn’t look at her. “Grade’s at the top.”

“Yes, I know, but my calculations show I should have a C in the class, not a D.”

He looked up, peering over the rim of his glasses at her. With an exaggerated sigh, he held out his hand. “Let me see.”

She swallowed the knot in her throat and willed her heart not to beat out of her chest as he thumbed through her papers and punched the figures on his calculator. “Hmm,” he said. “Your calculations do appear correct.” He pulled a grade book out of his bag. “Let me see what I have written down.”

She waited as he found her name, then tapped a place on the book. “This is why I love the old method of grading.” He smiled at her. “I made an error, and since you kept all your papers, you were able to catch it.” He wrote a number in the book. “I neglected to give you a score for an assignment.” He tapped the second paper she’d written for him. “But you have proof of completion and a grade.” He handed her the papers, then patted her back. “Great job. Congratulations.”

Ignoring the fact that she felt as if she were a two-year-old being congratulated for using the bathroom correctly, she shoved the papers back in her folder and nodded to him. “Thank you, Dr. Mays.”

He grinned. “Have a terrific break, Ms. Isaacs.”

She nodded again as she turned and walked out the door. She could have mentioned that if he’d embrace the technological age that she still would have had proof of turning in the paper, probably more so, because it would have been time-stamped in the class’s drop box. But she didn’t. It was his class, and if he wanted to be old-school about it, that was his choice.

After wrapping her scarf around her neck, she pulled on her gloves. She smiled as the weight of the class finally lifted from her chest. She’d gotten a C. She would keep her scholarship.

* * *

Jack turned the key in the ignition of the shelter’s van. He shook his head at Owen. “See. Nothing. No turnover at all.”

Owen scratched his head. “Probably the starter, but I’m about as good with cars as a piano player with no fingers.”

Jack scrunched his nose. “Where do you come up with these comparisons?”

Owen grinned and shrugged.

Jack hopped out of the driver’s seat and walked back to the front of the van. He looked at the engine and all the various hoses and gadgets. “I don’t want to call Pastor Mark. The electric bill was already a few hundred dollars higher because of the cold weather.”

Owen shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Yeah, but we’re not doing much good by standing here in the cold looking at it.”

“I know.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack spied Steve sauntering up the sidewalk toward the shelter. Jack waved, and Steve picked up the pace.

“Whatcha got going on here?”

Jack pointed to the engine. “Looks like we need a new starter.”

Steve pointed toward the seat. “Get on in there, turn her over and let me hear.”

Owen lifted his eyebrows, but Jack did as Steve said.

Steve smacked his lips. “Yup. The starter. I can fix her up for ya if you get me the parts.” He patted the side of the van. “She’s an old girl. Don’t need all that fancy machinery they put on these new cars, so I know how to fix her.”

Jack chewed the inside of his mouth as Owen slowly shook his head left to right. Jack lifted his hands. “Steve, I don’t have the parts you’d need.”

Steve spat on the ground. “Ain’t no problem. Take me on over to the auto parts store, and I’ll get us what we need.” He laughed, exposing his rotting teeth. “Course, you’ll have to pay for it.”

Owen pursed his lips, looking at Jack like he’d be crazy to consider it. And yet something in Jack’s spirit wanted to give Steve a try. Homeless people were homeless for a reason, and they all had a past most people didn’t know about. Exhaling a quick breath, Jack said, “Okay, Steve, let’s go.”

Steve took a step back. “Really? You gonna trust me to fix it?”

Jack narrowed his gaze. “You said you could.”

Steve nodded. “I can. I can.”

Jack pointed to his car. “Then let’s go get the parts.”

Owen looked at his watch. “I’d go with you, man, but I gotta get back to work.”

“No problem,” said Jack.

He whispered, “I’ll say a prayer this works.”

Jack grinned. “I’ll be praying with you.”

Jack opened the car door, and Steve got into the passenger seat. The stench overpowered Jack in the small space, and he wondered if his car would ever be the same.

Once at the auto parts store, Jack was all too aware of the stares of the customers as he and Steve picked up the parts he’d need. One woman took her young son by the hand and left the store altogether. Jack didn’t blame her. People were often afraid of people who weren’t like them, especially if they looked bad and smelled bad. But there was so much more to the homeless. He knew that firsthand.

After paying for the parts, Jack drove back to the shelter. He stood outside, his gloved hands shoved into his coat pockets. He couldn’t believe Steve could stand to be tinkering on that van in the cold with no gloves at all. After a while, Steve stood to his full height and smacked dirty hands together. “That should do her.” He motioned to the front. “Try her out.”

Jack put the keys in the ignition and turned. To his surprise, the van roared to life. Steve chuckled as he smacked the hood shut. “Still got it.”

Jack hopped out of the van and walked to Steve. “You were a mechanic, weren’t you?”

Steve lifted his chin and pride lit his eyes. “One of the best in town.”

“Why are you on the streets?”

Steve shrugged.

Jack studied his friend for a moment. “Come on. You deserve a treat.”

Jack grabbed his arm and guided him into the shelter. He settled Steve into one of the chairs and went back to the kitchen and fixed two cups of hot chocolate.
God, show me the words to say. Lead Steve to You.

He handed Steve a mug, then sat across from him. “Careful. It’s hot.”

Steve blew on the top. “Smells good. Ain’t had hot chocolate in years.”

Jack wrapped his hands around the mug, allowing the heat to warm his hands. “You know I was homeless for a while.”

Steve squinted at him. “You were? How long?”

“About a year before I became a Christian and started working and living at the shelter.”

“Hmph. Where at? Ain’t never seen you around here.” He pointed to his chest. “And I reckon I know everybody.”

“Texas. A man named Jermaine led me to the Lord. I started working for him. Lived in a shelter called God’s Hands.”

“Hmph.” He pointed to Jack. “Why was you on the streets? Seem like a smart fellow.”

“I am a smart fellow. My guess is that you are, as well.”

Steve lowered his gaze and took a long drink of the cocoa. It was still hot, and Jack knew the liquid had to burn going down.

Jack figured if he wanted to make any headway with his homeless friend, he’d have to lay his own life on the line. “I was stuck on the bottle,” said Jack.

Steve clicked his tongue. “Yup. That’ll do it.” He pointed to his head. “Stopped taking my crazy meds. Used different drugs instead.”

Jack nodded. He wasn’t surprised. Sometimes Steve was lucid, like today. Other times his eyes were glazed and confusion dominated his expression. Mental instability, drugs or both.

“Why’d you stop taking your meds?”

Steve shuddered. “Side effects were awful.”

“Maybe you just need to try different kinds or doses.”

“Got tired of that. None of them worked, and when Janine died, I didn’t care that they didn’t work.”

“Janine was your wife?”

Steve clammed up and took another drink of the hot chocolate.

Jack twirled his fingers around the cup. He had yet to take a drink, but his spirit was so heavy for Steve. He wanted to share, to convince him to accept the Lord, to change his life. He prayed for God to put the right words in his mouth. “You know what really turned my life around?”

Steve didn’t respond.

Jack continued. “Jesus. When I accepted Christ as Lord of my life, everything changed. I was able to fight my addiction. My life—”

Steve slammed the cup on the table and stood to his feet. “Well, Jack, thanks for the cocoa. Glad to help you with the van.”

Steve wasn’t ready. Not yet. “Thanks again for fixing it.”

Jack released a long breath as he watched Steve walk out the door. His friend wasn’t ready, but that wouldn’t stop Jack from praying.

Chapter 15

P
amela shook hands with Jermaine and Stella. Jack had talked about them many times over the past few months, but they looked nothing like she had imagined. She’d known they were African-American, but she’d envisioned a younger, more haggard-looking couple. They had to be in their late fifties, early sixties, but with their contemporary clothes and hairstyles, they reminded her more of her parents than workers in a homeless shelter. Jermaine’s eyes twinkled with merriment, and she experienced an instant connection with him, but Stella seemed to hold her at arm’s length. She studied her, and Pamela found herself wondering if the woman had doubts that she was good enough for Jack.

Jack glanced at her and Stella. “Jermaine wants me to go with him to the back. We’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

Pamela smiled, willing him to read her mind not to leave her alone with the woman. He didn’t get the message, and Pamela clasped her hands together when she and Stella were left alone in the room.

Stella motioned to some chairs. “We could sit a spell.”

Pamela nodded and sat across from Stella. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. She had no idea what to talk with the woman about, and she wanted to choke Jack for leaving them alone.

They’d had a wonderful dinner as a family on Sunday after church. Even Emma had looked forward to seeing Jack. When he’d asked her to meet the couple from Texas, she hadn’t had the heart to say no.

“How are things between you and Jack?”

The woman’s voice was stern, leaving no room to argue about responding to her question. “Good.”

“You’re not back together yet, though?”

Pamela shifted in the seat. That wasn’t any of this woman’s business. Stella might have a relationship with Jack, but she most certainly didn’t have one with Pamela, and Pamela owed her no explanations. Still propriety required she answer the question. “No.”

Stella leaned forward in the chair. “He tell you about his time with us?”

Pamela glanced at the door leading to the back of the building. What was taking them so long? Maybe she should just go check on them. She felt Stella’s intense gaze and sucked in a breath as she responded. “No, he didn’t.”

“Have you asked?”

“No.”

Pamela studied her fingernails. Sometimes she wanted to ask him what he’d done the eight years he was gone. Then she feared his answer. Feared he’d tell her the truth of it, and she’d be devastated. She inwardly chuckled at her thinking. She was such a fool. Claimed she didn’t want him back but feared the truth would cement her desire to never allow him back.

“You wanna know?”

She stared into Stella’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know.”

A slow grin spread over Stella’s face, and, for the first time, Pamela spied kindness in her eyes. “Well, I’m gonna tell you a bit. That husband of yours lived with us at God’s Hands for three years.”

Surprise swelled in Pamela’s gut, and she lifted her eyebrows. “What? That long?”

Stella pursed her lips. “Yep. That boy had spent a year before that pretty much on the streets. Living here, there and everywhere. Believe your husband said his parents had kicked him out for good.”

Pamela crossed her arms in front of her chest, feeling uncomfortable that Stella kept referring to him as her husband. She hadn’t realized he’d actually lived on the streets. The truth of it sent a shiver down her spine, and she stared at a bubble gum wrapper on the floor.

Stella continued. “He’d wandered into the shelter several times.” She shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Knew that husband of yours was hungover most the time. Then one day this woman comes into the shelter. Has these two little girls.”

She stopped talking, and Pamela looked up. Stella wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Well, I’ll let him tell you the details. But that was the day he grabbed Jermaine and begged him to show him how to straighten up his life.”

A huge smile spread over the woman’s face and she sat up straighter. “And my Jermaine led that boy to the only one who could cure him, Jesus Christ. After that, your husband cleaned up his act, attended meetings, started back to school, even lived at the shelter and worked for us.”

Pamela’s brow furrowed. “He kept living at the shelter?”

“Yep.”

“But why?”

“Well, he was in school and trying to save every extra penny for you and the girls.”

Emotion swelled within Pamela, threatening a display she’d prefer not to have in front of the woman. She jumped to her feet. “Excuse me, Stella. I need to use the restroom.”

Pamela raced into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. After wetting a paper towel, she dotted her cheeks and forehead. Thoughts pelted her brain from every angle. He’d been sober for years before he’d called. Lived in a shelter to save money. He’d actually lived on the streets. Was kicked out of his parents’ home. Who did he live with? What had he done? What had happened to him?

She closed her eyes. He told her he loved her every time they saw each other. Part of her wanted to love him again. In the depth of her heart, she knew she loved him. But knowing something and acting on it were different things. Maybe it wasn’t safe to love him again. Her heartbeat sped up. Horrible things happened to homeless people, and drunk people made bad choices.

Pulling back her hair, she growled into the mirror. It would be easier to simply walk away, to tell him to get out of her life forever. But she knew he wouldn’t. Even if she rejected him, he wouldn’t leave the girls again.

The truth of that simmered in her heart. He wouldn’t leave the girls. In her spirit, she knew he wouldn’t. Blowing out a breath, she threw the paper towel in the trash can and walked out of the bathroom.

Stella placed her hand on Pamela’s arm. “You all right?”

Pamela nodded.

“Talk to him.”

“I’m gonna have to.”

* * *

Jack gazed at Pamela across the booth. She looked beautiful in the silky green blouse and dark skirt. A thin strand of pearls hugged her long, creamy neck. She’d pulled her red mane up into some kind of knot, but long strands fell against her ears and neck. Though she rarely wore dark makeup, she’d put some dark green shadow on her eyelids that made her blue eyes almost glow in the dim light.

He still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go on a date with him. Before they’d left, Stella had encouraged him to ask Pamela to spend some time just the two of them. He’d thought the older woman crazy, but maybe he’d been dragging his feet, trying too hard to prove he’d be a good father. Maybe he needed to focus more on the romance he hoped they’d share again.

The waitress arrived at the table, and they ordered steaks, baked potatoes and salads. When the woman walked away, Pamela placed her napkin in her lap. “This is very nice, Jack.”

“I’m glad you agreed to come. I want us to spend time together as a couple.”

“I know.”

She averted her gaze, and Jack took a drink of his sweet iced tea. He pondered what he should say to her. Nothing too heavy. They just needed to enjoy spending time together. He cleared his throat. “Have all your grades been posted?”

“Mmm-hmm. Four As and one C. Exactly what I expected.”

“That’s terrific. Three semesters to go, right?”

“That’s right.”

She reached for her glass and took a drink. Jack clasped his hands on the table. The waitress returned and filled their glasses. Pamela still didn’t look at him as she took another drink.

He tried again. “Jermaine and Stella bought me a bus ticket to Texas, so I can visit my family.” He wanted to add that he’d love for her and the girls to join him, but he knew better than to ask. Yet.

“That’s nice.” She traced the rim of the glass with her fingertip. “Is it round-trip?”

He stared at her until she finally looked him in the eye. “I’m never leaving again.”

She nodded, and the waitress arrived with their food. He took Pamela’s hands in his and allowed his thumbs to caress her palms as he prayed over their food. With the amen, Pamela pulled back her hands and started eating. He tasted little as he shoved bites into his mouth. What was wrong with her? He never knew from one moment to the next how she would behave. He’d never been a big fan of roller coasters, and this was one he especially wanted off.

She looked at him and swallowed. She wanted to ask something. Her anxiety was obvious. He wished she’d just spit it out. “Pamela, if there’s something you’d like to—”

“Stella talked to me about your past.”

Jack blinked and looked at her. “What about it?”

“About your living at the shelter. That you were actually homeless.”

“That’s true.” Jack wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Pamela peered at him. “Where did you go when you left?”

“I moved in with my parents, and when I wouldn’t stop drinking, they kicked me out. I lived with a buddy before he kicked me out, then back with my parents, then I ended up shacking up in a raggedy tent on the outskirts of town.”

Pamela chewed on her bottom lip. He could imagine everything she’d want to know, but he’d wait and let her ask.

“How did you end up at Jermaine and Stella’s shelter?”

He remembered the first time. The temperature had dipped below freezing the night before. He’d almost died in that tent. When he hadn’t, he’d wandered into town and seen God’s Hands. “Got cold. I knew I’d freeze if I didn’t find better shelter.”

She nodded. “Stella mentioned a woman and two girls?”

Pain laced through Jack’s veins. When he closed his eyes, he could still see their faces. Forever he’d wonder what had happened to them. He nodded. “The woman.” He motioned to Pamela’s hair. “Her hair was a little lighter than yours. She had two little girls with her.” He shrugged. “So close in age they might have been twins.”

Pamela interrupted him. “They reminded you of me and the girls?”

He nodded. “The woman had two black eyes. The girls were too thin. Fear filled their eyes. Their dad had...” He shook his head. “I’ll never forget the look in their eyes.” He took Pamela’s hand in his. “It was that night I realized I was the lowest of sinners, and I needed God. I wanted to change, and I wanted to be a good husband to you and a good dad to the girls. I realized only God could change me.”

Pamela looked down at the table. “Did anyone ever hurt you? You know, while you were homeless?”

“No.”

“Did you ever hurt anyone?”

“You mean besides you and the girls and my family? No. I never physically hurt anyone.”

Her voice sounded little louder than a whisper. “Did you...were there other women?”

“No.”

She lifted her chin and looked into his eyes, daring him to lie to her. He wished she could read his mind.

He shook his head. “No.”

She nodded and excused herself to the restroom. While she was gone, Jack paid for their meal and prayed that God would reunite them as husband and wife. When she returned, she didn’t say anything, and since he was unsure what he should say, he helped her into her coat, then put on his own and guided her to the car.

The car ride home was quiet, and Jack begged God to give him words to say, but his spirit remained quiet, so Jack waited. When he pulled in front of the cabin, Pamela turned in her seat to face him. Tears pooled in her eyes, and he lifted his hand to wipe them away. She stopped him.

“I loved you, Jack. With everything in me.”

He remembered how she’d fawned on him, almost worshipped him while they dated, and the many times he’d taken advantage of her affections. “I don’t deserve another chance, Pamela. I know that, but I do love you, and I’m asking for the chance to make it up to you. To start again.”

Her neck moved as she swallowed. “A lot happened while you were gone.”

He nodded and waited for her to finish.

She lifted her chin. “I learned to be independent, to take care of myself and the girls.”

He grabbed her hand. “And you’ve done a great job. I’m so proud of you. The girls are—”

She pulled her hand away and lifted it to stop him. “You’ve changed, Jack. There’s no doubt about that, and I believe you will be a great dad for the girls now.”

Dread filled his heart as she wiped the tears from both eyes. She grabbed the door handle. “But you and I can’t happen. I just...I just can’t ever feel that way again. I won’t allow it.”

She didn’t give him time to respond as she yanked open the car door, then raced inside the house. He closed his eyes and dipped his chin as sadness washed over him.